


Hunger-Pang Frame

by TheSadisticMunchkin



Series: New Beginnings [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Princess Protection Program (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Origin Story, Orphans, Rags to Riches, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSadisticMunchkin/pseuds/TheSadisticMunchkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If he remembered his name, he would tell the kind man but all he could give him was a tiny shake of his head.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>This is Alexander's story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger-Pang Frame

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Prince Protection Program](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001534) by [TheSadisticMunchkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSadisticMunchkin/pseuds/TheSadisticMunchkin). 



> Hello, everyone! This is the first of many other tiny stories in my PPP verse. I added a lot of plot between Alex and the king of Nevis as well as Washington and Aaron. This is a series where I can explain a few things. 
> 
> If you haven't read Prince Protection Program, you can read that first but this is a prequel series. You can read this first before reading that :)
> 
> So enjoy this first one <3

He was afraid.

 

The streets were dark and nobody would spare him a glance. Why would they? He was lost. He was alone. He was a tiny child wandering around with no sense of actual direction. Where was he going to go? Nevis had no orphanage system. Population in the entire country doesn’t even reach 1 million. Where was he to go? The only home he knew was the banged up tool shed that once belonged to a grumpy, old landowner. 

 

He was cold.

 

All he had on for warmth was the thin sheet of fabric that he managed to beg from the kind dressmaker in the nearest town. She only gave him something to keep him warm because she knew his mother.

 

His mother.

 

She held him as she died. She held him close and cried. She held him against her chest and whispered in his ear to be brave. She told him he was going to do a million things and the world was going to know his name. He didn’t believe her words then when they still lived in that banged up tool shed so why was he supposed to believe them now? How was he supposed to believe her when here he was begging for scraps and wondering every day if he was even going to be alive the next morning?

 

He was tired.

 

He was so tired. His feet have been walking miles and miles. He passed several farms he couldn’t reap from, convenience stores he couldn’t buy from and warm little homes with chimneys billowing out puffs of smoke he couldn’t sleep in. He wanted to drop to the ground and let the earth swallow him whole. He wanted the world to be as dead as his mother because his mother was the only thing that gave him life. 

 

Without her, what was he to live for?

 

A part of him wanted to blame his father. Another part of him couldn’t. In his little heart, the one beating a thousand helpless screams into the void of his veins, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What was there to blame but the forgotten promise of a comfortable life that wasn’t even for him? The only person he could blame was himself. His father left him, his mother tried to hold on but drifted away too. Now, he can’t even remember his own name. 

 

It’s fitting even  _ he _ would leave himself.

 

He sat on the cold concrete of the street that was scorching hot when he woke up. He wasn’t able to find food today. He wasn’t able to find someone to take pity on him and let him sleep in for the night. Honestly, he would take a damn welcome mat if it meant there was a light over his head and maybe a few bites of food to tide him over. That would honestly be enough for him. Alas, he used up all his sympathy cards for everyone within a 50-mile radius. 

 

It would only take a miracle to save him now. He was down to skin and bones. His hair was greasy and some strands clung to his skin. The only thing keeping him alive was the last shred of innocence he has left. No matter how much his life has devastated him like a hurricane, he still held the tiniest light of a child within him. He  _ was _ a child. No one could take that from him yet. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to grow up too quickly.

 

He closed his eyes. For now, he let the night consume him as well as his thoughts. Maybe morning would bring a brand new sunrise, a better tomorrow.

 

When the morning came, there was no sunrise. There were only dark, gloomy clouds that covered the sky like a quilt on a cold winter’s night. The light that he expected to see was nowhere to be found and he wondered again if waking up today was worth it. He could very easily fall asleep again. He would let the raindrops paint blue on the canvas of his rough and greasy skin. He would let the rising water carry him to a place where he never has to think anymore.

 

He would like a place where he doesn’t have to starve.

 

Suddenly, warm droplets of water ran down his face and he was surprised to find it didn’t come from the clouds above. It seemed that his misery would never end and his body was finally starting to realize it. Just as he found himself slowly falling asleep again, a pair of shiny black boots walked its way into his vision. He was too tired to figure out if it was a good thing or a bad thing so he let the sight of those black boots be his last memory before he fell right back into slumber.

* * *

 

Silk sheets and soft music were definitely not what he expected to wake up to.

 

He also didn’t expect to hear voices. It was too early for him to be going crazy.

 

The first voice spoke in French. He didn’t know how to speak French. His mother passed away before she was able to teach him. She knew how. She would’ve known what that voice was saying. The second one spoke in Spanish. He knew Spanish. He could understand this one. He kept his eyes closed just so whoever was conversing above him wouldn’t notice he was already awake. A third voice, a firm but kinder voice, echoed from across the room and this one was in English.

 

“You might be disturbing his sleep, my brothers. Let him dream.” He liked this voice. It sounded how the rare chocolates he could manage to get would taste like; Rich and smooth. He could easily fall asleep to this voice speaking to him.

 

“Your majesty, he has been asleep for quite some time. 2 days in fact. Do you not think it is appropriate to wake him now?” The voice that spoke Spanish a few moments ago said to the other.

 

“I suppose since he hasn’t had breakfast.” The smooth voice replied. Breakfast. It was either breakfast or don’t eat anything until dinner for him. Breakfast was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Before he was able to open his eyes, the bed dipped at his side and a warm hand was on his shoulder. “My child, it’s time to wake up.” This time, he allowed himself to open his eyes. Thankfully, there weren’t any bright lights to partially impair his vision. The room merely was lit with dim, orange lighting.

 

“Bonjour, mon petit! Did you sleep well?” The first voice that spoke in French now had a face. He smiled down at him with a youthful glint in his eye and the small child blushed underneath his sheets. He only responded with a tiny nod of his head.

 

“Dear child,” The rich voice caught his attention again and he almost gasped when he looked at him. He knew this man. He has seen him in parades and sometimes he would visit the smaller farmers and landowners. This man was King Luis of Nevis. “Are you hungry? Breakfast will be served in just a minute.” He didn’t respond right away because he was too busy picking apart the features of the king up close.

 

How many children from the streets had such an opportunity?

 

His eyes were dark brown like his won and he assumed his hair was also the same color of his eyes once. Now it has turned white and it was tied up in a neat ponytail behind him. The king didn’t wear his crown, unlike when he saw him in Parades with his fancy clothing. He only wore a yellow collared shirt and red pants. It was an odd match but it worked on him. “Young one, would you like some breakfast?” King Luis asked again and he was snapped out of his thoughts soon enough to finally nod.

 

With his affirmation, the French-speaking man held up a bright green robe and he assumed he had to put it on. He did not argue as the Spanish-speaking man offered him his hand. He placed his tiny hand into the man’s large palm and felt the warmth of his hand envelope him. “My name is John Laurens. You may call me anything you like.”

 

“John.” He responded with furrowed eyebrows. 

 

“I am what they call Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette.” Said the Frenchman and he had to blink several times to figure out if what he said was real. “But you may call me Lafayette.” He held his hand out for him too and he did not hesitate to place his hand there too. Together, John and Lafayette held his hands and followed the King out of the bedroom and into the dining room. 

 

A long table filled with all sorts of food greeted them as they walked into the dining room. The king chuckled at the astonished look on the young boy’s face and this time, he knelt down in front of him. “We have told you our names, my child. What might be yours?” The king waited for his response but all he could do was stare. If he remembered his name, he would tell the kind man but all he could give him was a tiny shake of his head.

 

“You have no name?” The king placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he resisted the urge to shake it off and run. 

 

“I don’t remember my name, your highness.” Was the longest statement he could give and he ducked his head in embarrassment. Lafayette knelt next to him and took his hand again. All he wanted to do was run away and hide. He was right in front of the king of his country and he couldn’t remember his own name. “I’m sorry.” He murmured after a few minutes of silence and he was biting his lip to stop himself from crying.

 

“What is there to be sorry for? If you don’t remember your name, all you have to do is think of a new one!” He looked up at the king at that and he tilted his head slightly in confusion.

 

“Really?” He didn’t know he could do that. “How do I think of a new name?”

 

“Well we can say some names at the top of our heads and you can tell us if you like it or not. Is that okay?” That sounded fine to him. He nodded once and soon the three men started to say a bunch of names. John suggested Christopher and he wrinkled his nose at that. Lafayette suggested George and he shrugged his shoulders. The king suggested Alexander and his ears perked. The reaction did not go unnoticed and the king smiled at him.

 

“You like the name, Alexander?” 

 

“It sounds nice.” He said and the rest of them nodded in agreement.

 

“Alexander it is then. Would you like to eat breakfast with us, Alexander?” This time, he nodded his head enthusiastically and bounded over to the chair Lafayette slid out for him. Soon enough he fell into a comfortable rhythm with them all. He still didn’t know how to use a fork and spoon but thankfully they had finger foods that worked just fine with him. He devoured everything he could possibly eat and when breakfast was over, he didn’t think he could starve ever again.

 

Alexander, he still felt giddy over his newfound name, looked up at the three men conversing over what he probably won’t understand and suddenly he felt something akin to guilt. Why were they helping him? Why did they feed him? Why did they clothe him with the finest of robes and let him sleep in the softest of bed sheets? 

 

Why did they take pity on him of all people?

 

“Alexander,” He quickly looked up and soon realized he was crying. “Alexander, what’s wrong?”

 

“Why am I here? Why are you being nice to me? Am I going to go back after this?” Truthfully, he didn’t want to. His eyes were wide and he was staring at all of them at a loss. “I’m sorry for asking so many questions.” He didn’t want to go back and show up in the public school 10 miles away from the city. He hasn’t gone back there in weeks ever since his mother died. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t learn when the wounds on his heart and the wounds on her skin were still fresh.

 

He didn’t want people to look at him and laugh too.

 

“Alexander, look at me.” He didn’t notice the king already kneeling down in front of him. He placed his large hands, palms up, on Alexander’s knees and waited for the younger boy to place his hands on top of his. “You were sleeping on the streets just as a storm was approaching. You did not feel the rain for my umbrella was already covering you. I couldn’t leave you there. I just couldn’t.” 

 

“Am I going back?” His voice was trembling at this point. The prospect of going back haunted him to his core and the image of his mother holding him flashed in his mind momentarily. He didn’t want to end up dead. His mother once told him he was going to do a million things and he couldn’t do that if he was dead. The king looked at him, shook his head vigorously and squeezed the young orphan’s hands.

 

“Of course not, Alexander. You can choose to stay with us if you wish.”

 

“I want to stay.”  _ Please let me stay.  _

 

The king smiled and wiped the few tears that fell down Alexander’s cheeks. “My dear Alexander, you are more than welcome to stay. You can stay as long as you want.”

 

“Can I stay forever?” Lafayette clapped in delight at that statement and Alexander finally found it in himself to smile. Soon enough all four of them were laughing and chatting away. Alexander was, surprisingly, one of the most talkative ones and he was particularly excited when Lafayette said he wanted to teach him how to speak French. The king merely smiled as this child, found on the streets on a dark gloomy day, brought light into the room and into his life.

 

From the way that Alexander looked at him, he believed he did the same for him too. 

 

The day went by them and the night was fast approaching. Alexander opted to stay in Lafayette’s quarters for now as the maids fixed up his new bedroom. King Luis watched as little Alexander climbed on top of Lafayette’s shoulders and screamed happily at the top of his lungs when Lafayette started running. His tiny hands gripped tightly onto Lafayette’s ponytail and they disappeared into the hallway presumably to the Frenchman’s room. 

 

“Laurens, may I speak with you for a moment.” The King gestured for John to follow him into the dining room. Once they were sitting down on chairs, the king leaned forward and looked at John straight in the eyes. “I would like you to resign as my Royal Protector.”

 

John’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Your majesty, how could I? The tyrant George Frederick is still out there. He has already made most of our allies part of his West Indies project. I can’t leave you now!”

 

“Who said you were going to leave?”

 

“Pardon, my king?”

 

“You may resign as my Royal Protector but you will be reinstated as  _ Alexander’s _ Lord Protector. Heaven knows that boy will be used as a threat one day, as much as I want to deny it. You must do whatever it takes to keep him safe. My safety will no longer matter in a few years’ time.”

 

“We can get doctors from America, your majesty! They have more advanced medicine than we do and--”

 

“John, please stop.” He sounded so tired and truth be told, he was. He loved his country and he would gladly die for it but his sickness was something he couldn’t run away from. The more he prevents it, the more he will be reminded that it was coming. “My time will come soon. Until then, I want to raise that boy to be a prince. I want him to look up to people such as you and Lafayette. I want him to grow up in comfort and luxury but he must never forget where he came from.”

 

“And what will happen once you are gone?” John sounded hurt and he stood up to prevent himself from yelling at his sovereign ruler. “Are you just going to make him king? A  _ boy _ king? We all know that didn’t work out for the Egyptians before.” 

 

“When the time is right, he will be king. You may leave that responsibility to me for now, John.” He stood up as well until he was chest to chest with John. He remembered when he first recruited him into his security. He was a bright young man who wished for war so much he practically breathed gun powder. Now here he was pretending as if his King was never going to die. “This conversation is over, my friend. Now see to it that Alexander goes to bed early, I plan to go to the theater with him tomorrow.”

 

“Of course, your majesty.” He sensed that John wanted to say something else but he merely shook his head. John sighed and nodded at him once before exiting the room. He watched as the new Lord Protector disappeared from his sight and he sighed. “Someday, my love. We will be together again.” The king looked off to the side at the giant portrait of his late wife hanging on the far wall of the dining room. “You would love this boy, Luz. The world is going to know his name one day,” He smiled sadly as her once lively brown eyes stared at him without seeing. 

 

“Just you wait.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to ask questions on this particular verse, go to my writing tumblr (hotdamndotham) and shoot a few asks my way! Or if you want to request me to write something, you can reach me there too :)


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